Crucial Conversations with Children: The Lord of the Flies Syndrome

Dad, Have You Ever Stopped and Looked Yourself in the Mirror . . . ?

Perhaps eight or so months following the death of my first wife Christy, my daughter Kacie stopped me in the kitchen and asked a question that simply blew me away!  The conversations in which we had engaged up to that point had primarily focused on issues related to practical or spiritual curiosities.  The question that so arrested my attention was one that forced my realization that children of all ages find themselves on a quest for meaning -- a quest that often only comes to light in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Kacie asked, "Dad, have you ever stopped and looked at yourself in the mirror and asked, 'What is life about?'  'Why am I here?'  'What am I supposed to do with my life?'  Have you ever asked yourself those questions?"

Well, I immediately grabbed the nearest chair, sat down and invited her to sit with me.  I looked into her seriously curious eyes and knew that I was on the verge of something big -- very big!

I said, "Sure I have, Honey, but not when I was seven years old!"

We both chuckled a bit and then earnestly dove in to her question.

"Those are some pretty heavy questions there, Little One," I said.  "What on earth caused you to think about such a deep topic?"

"Well, I've just been trying to make sense of all this stuff -- you know, Mom dying and all!  She was only 32!  It's just not fair!  I mean, look at all she could have done with her life!  Her students miss her and other kids will never have the chance to have her in class!  I won't have her here to be my mommy!  You have to take care of me alone!  It's just . . . well . . .  I don't get it!  Was her purpose finished here?  Is that why she died?  I just want to know . . . to know what I'm supposed to do now!"

I was nearly speechless!  I struggled to find a point of beginning.  So many issues were wrapped up in her questions.  I finally took her hand in mine and said, "Sweetie, I'm asking the same questions right now.  I'm not sure I have any clear answers for myself, much less you."  Her countenance withered noticeably.  I hurriedly followed up with, "How about you and I work together to find answers to those questions?  Maybe we can help one another make some sense of all this.  I would like that if you don't mind."

Kacie looked at me for a long time without saying a word.  I wondered what was going on in her head.  Finally she spoke.  "OK, Daddy.  I guess so!"  After a brief pause she continued.  "You mean YOU have some of the same questions that I do . . . really?"

"Yes, Honey," I replied.  "Some of the exact same questions.  You see, Daddies and Mommies don't always have the answers to all questions.  Sometimes we have to look for them.  I believe that you and I can find some answers for ourselves if we just give ourselves some time and do some looking.  You OK with that?"

My heart swelled as she sat up straight in the chair, smiled back at me and said, "Sure, Daddy!  Sure!  We'll go on an answer hunt!"

The Lord of the Flies Syndrome

That day initiated an "answer hunt" that continues on to the present and perhaps through the rest of our lives.  Finding one's purpose or creating a personal destiny is a process and not an event.  When children deal with the death of a loved one, they often find themselves thrust into an arena for which they are not prepared.  In addition, the adults surrounding them may or may not possess adequate mental or emotional health to provide the immediate and long-term support necessary for healthy reconciliation and integration of the loss experience for the child.

In an attempt to conceptualize the situation into which children find themselves in the aftermath of a death loss, I decided that the best descriptor is The Lord of the Flies Syndrome.  You remember The Lord of the Fliesdon't you?  It's a story about a plane full of children ranging in age from around five to twelve who crash on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean.  All adults accompanying them die leaving them without guidance or supervision.  The story chronicles their efforts to make sense of an unforeseen tragedy that stretches their emotional, social, physical and spiritual boundaries beyond their existing life experience.  Without guidance and supervision, they do what comes naturally -- and do so with mixed results.

In much the same way, children who experience the death of a loved one -- especially one to whom they are very close -- find themselves in uncharted territory.  Their emotional, social, physical and spiritual boundaries are stretched beyond their life experience.  They find themselves buried under a burden of self-doubt, uncertainty and confusion.  Without guidance and support, they are left to fill in the open space alone -- and that process has the potential to be hurtful or destructive.

What's a Person to Do?

This particular Crucial Conversations essay does not contain a "final closure conversation" as in past essays.  The primary reason lies in the nature of the initial question.  Since the creation, establishment and maintenance of a personal destiny is essentially a life-long process the lessons I learned and therefore wish to share are such that they instead form a framework in which to conduct ongoing conversations with children related to life purpose.

Following are some guidelines for such ongoing conversations:

• We must take seriously all questions from children related to life purpose -- regardless of the age of the child at the time of the asking.  Often, adults mistakenly assume that children do not think about such weighty matters.  If a child knows that his/her questions about life will be taken seriously, he/she will be more likely to discuss issues they deem important.
• We must be honest about our own personal struggles with such issues.  As strange as it may seem, children often need to know that we as adults do not have all the answers all the time.  When they understand that we struggle as well, we have a chance to share with them the approaches that have worked as well as those that have not.  They have a chance to learn not only from our wisdom but the power of our process as well.
• We must invite them to become part of our team.  Generally, children love feeling as if they are helpful -- that they have something to contribute to a process.  This is especially true when faced with the aftermath of a death loss.  If we as adults will ask for their input and perspective we might discover that they have valuable information to share -- information not yet considered.  Inviting them to become part of our team can also open doors for us to share our perspective without seeming overbearing or insensitive.  
• We must acknowledge the value of their input.  It is not enough to invite them to become a part of the team, we must let them know how valuable they are to the process and what value their perspective brings to the table.  This step can be extremely empowering for both the child and the adult. 
• We must be open to and access other sources of support and guidance as well.  One of the most valuable lessons we can teach children is the process of discovering and accessing existing support resources.  Too often, we find ourselves feeling isolated and alone in the midst of a personal crisis.  If we as adults feel this way, imagine how children feel!  We have the opportunity to teach children to reach out.  Support and guidance are available from so many different sources -- religious institutions; social network organizations; books; cd's and tapes; seminars; non-profit organizations; counselors and therapists; social workers; physicians; hospitals; funeral homes; boys and girls organizations -- and the list goes on.  My experience tellsme that often adults have not compiled a list of existing support resources in their surrounding communities and therefore find it difficult to model healthy choices for children.  The first step in teaching children the process of accessing these resources is to compile a list of resources ourselves and then routinely use them.  We can only teach what we do!
• We must commit to "be there" for the long haul!  Children need to know that we will be there for them -- period!  Barring our death or incapacity due to illness, children need to know that we will be there -- even when those children become adults themselves.  The role changes as well as the ways in which we support them as they grow into adulthood, but the knowledge that they have a person or people in their lives with whom they have a shared history can be one of the most empowering assurances we can give.

The search for personal meaning and purpose in life is an ongoing process -- one that requires us to reach out to others around us.  Often, children are forced to engage this process in an accelerated way due to the experience of a death loss in their lives.  They fall victim to The Lord of the Flies Syndrome.  When this happens, the absolute best thing we can do is establish a meaningful relationship with them; treat them and their questions with dignity and respect; and commit to walking with them as a companion in their personal journey toward life purpose!

I have often said that the most meaningful and lasting connections are made at the point of another's pain and not at the point of their victory.  I encourage you to "stop and look at yourself in the mirror" and ask, 'What is life about?'  'Why am I here?'  'What am I supposed to do with my life?' -- and do so from the perspective of a child.  If you are able to do that, I believe a whole new world will open to you -- a world in which providing appropriate support and guidance to children as they work through The Lord of the Flies Syndrome will emerge and you will discover a deeper appreciation for relationships and process.

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2009 Mark E. Hundley

 

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